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I’m trapped inside my apartment. There’s a good reason for it though...
Right now, I'm in my apartment on the third floor, and I can't go outside. I'm lucky that I've just bought my groceries yesterday. I don't know who could've done that, but at this time, I know a few other things. I know that it was someone from the tenants since the seams on the door indicate that they were welded shut from the inside. I know that one of my neighbor's friends from the next entrance confirmed that their door was welded shut as well, which tells me that they are still in here with us. I know that we don't know who it is - nobody has taken the blame so far. And I know that there's a dead body outside. But don't let me get ahead of myself. I'll explain everything in a minute. I live in a small and VERY old apartment complex on the far outskirts of a small town. Honestly, calling it an apartment complex is a stretch - it's only five stories high, no elevator, and it was built out of concrete panels all the way back in the 60s. It has no attic, so people who live on the last floor have to constantly worry about rain ruining their ceiling, extremely sound conducive for their thickness walls so you never feel home alone and a basement which connects to a sewer system - which smells horribly in spring. In Russia, these kinds of buildings are called "Khruschyovka" - named after Khruschev, obviously. I get the appeal of a low-cost easy-to-construct building, but I think there's not a single soul in the entire country who'd miss them. In 50 years they should've demolished them and replaced them with something better, something newer. At this point, the buildings are a health hazard. Usually, only the old people live there, since it was the house they received long ago and never moved out. Young people like me rarely moved into Khruschyovkas, which was why my neighbors were mostly old people. And let me tell you, old people in Russia are really mean. But I can't complain. I got this apartment from my late grandma, so at a young age, I at least have my own place. Plus the view from my balcony on the third floor is great - it overlooks the forest, which technically is the border of our town, so no ugly buildings in sight. Just a boundless nature, which, as I was told, stretches for thousands of kilometers in that direction. An entire ocean of dark wood that curves beyond the horizon. In a way, I live on a beach. Pretty sweet if you don't account for the things that sometimes wash ashore. At first, I was kind of bewildered. I went down the stairs to the first floor, yawning and stretching and hoping for a weekend to come faster, and I saw a crowd of people, all in their coats, with their bags in their hands. The air was hot and damp from their collective breathing, and the air was quaking from their shouting. I couldn't make out what were they saying, because they are all talking at the same time, but I could get the general mood. Some of them were confused, but mostly they were outraged. I didn't understand what was going on at first. It was eight in the morning when everyone was either hurrying to their jobs or god knows where the pensioners go so early. But then I made it to the front of the crowd, and my eyebrows shot up. In front of me, a couple of men in their forties were trying their hardest to push the door open…only they couldn't. The entire frame of the iron door was welded shut: I could see the metallic seam running along the frame. "Push harder, I have a doctor's appointment in an hour!" - one of the old women shouted at them. "It's no use" - one of the men stood back and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "The seam had already cooled down. Nothing short of a circular saw will open this door now". "Are locked in here?!" - one of the women asked in a tone that was bordering on hysterical. "I can't stay here, I need to get to work!" "Everybody needs to get to work!" - the man snapped back at her. "But the door is locked. What else do you want me to do?" "So what, we're going to stay here locked because of some kid's prank?" - she squealed at a frequency I thought was impossible for a human voice to produce. "I doubt that it was a prank" - the man said. "I've worked as a welder for seventeen years, so I can tell you for sure: the door was welded shut from the inside". There was a pause of silence as everyone considered the meaning of his words. Somebody locked themselves in with the rest of the tenants? But why? "Who the hell would do something like that?" - I asked aloud no one in particular. "Some maniac, for sure" - the old woman grunted. She gave me a mean eye, and then tugged my sleeve: "Say, what apartment are you from? I don't recall seeing you here. Is that you who's done that?" - she pointed at the door. "You and your good-for-nothing friends, huh? Probably hoping to butcher us all and take our money, huh?" - she was getting louder with each sentence, and I suddenly found myself at the center of attention of a really mean and annoyed crowd. I had to defuse the situation fast, or else I wouldn't be able to reach my apartment in one piece. "I'm Tamara Vasilyevna's grandson" - I explained, feeling angry that my words - the God-honest truth - sounded like an excuse In that context. "I've lived here for the past year. And I just came down from my apartment". "Leave him be, you old hag" - one of the men from the back of the crowd interfered. "I've seen this lad here many times, he's good people. Helped me with my bags more than once". The woman was obviously humiliated by such a development and gave me a death glare, but thankfully, she didn't say anything else. A doorbell buzzed behind me: someone from the crowd was trying to reach the neighbors that lived on the first floor. "Open up!" - I heard a man's voice shouting, followed by the thuds of his fists knocking on the door. "The door's stuck, and I need to go to work!" "How are they going to help you?" - someone from the crowd asked. "I'll crawl out through their window, that's how!" - the man replied. "Don't be ridiculous, all of the windows on the first floor are grated" - somebody else shouted, but the man didn't listen. It seemed that more people joined him as I could hear numerous fists banging on the door. "Hello? Can you help me with the door? I can't seem to open it!" - we suddenly heard a voice coming from outside - from beneath the welded door. Somebody was caught outside when the door was welded shut - I can't find any explanation as to why they were trying to enter our building at such an early hour. Perhaps they were out for groceries. Or they decided to take a morning jog. Or perhaps it was a postman. Doesn't matter now. The people started talking all at the same time, trying to explain their situation to the man, or to ask him to call for help, or to demand him to explain himself, but he never had a chance to answer their questions. "Oh my God, what the hell is it?!" - he screamed in terror. The door shook as he started pulling on the door handle, hoping to pry the door open. The crowd fell silent: the terror in the man's voice was so genuine that no one had any doubts that he indeed saw something horrifying. "Let me in! Please!" - he screamed again, desperately hoping to muster the strength to open the door. We couldn't see, of course, what scared him so much - but we could hear it. The heavy snarling, the clanking teeth of a huge maw, the claws scratching against the ground. Getting louder with each second. The concern for his fate swept over us at the same time: it was probably what our ancestors felt when they watched one of their own being chased by a lion. "Run! Run while you still can!" - the crowd shouted, but it was already too late. There was a loud thud and the door shook: the unknown creature rammed straight into man, pressing him to the door with its massive frame. I could hear it growling as it was tearing into him, trying to get a better hold of him, but I couldn't recognize the animal. The door trembled again and again, as the creature was throwing the man against it, hoping to get him to stop resisting. He screamed until the creature finally got to his throat. Someone gasped in terror. "Help him, someone!" - somebody from the back of the crowd shouted. Nobody moved: there was nothing we could do. The iron door that protected us from the creature outside was also separating us from the man. He was so close to us, and yet he was dying alone. There was another strike at the door, and the crowd stepped back. The creature was testing the metal, it could hear us inside, but the door stood still. Whoever welded it shut did a good job. After that, it fell silent. We didn't know whether it left or was standing right behind the door, biding its time. We couldn't check either way. It was at that moment that we heard them. The sirens. Old and rusty, they were coming back to life after decades of sleep to fulfill their purpose - to warn people of an incoming catastrophe. The years of slumber did not do them any good - they started out sounding low, but with each second, as their mechanical voice chords were stretching and warming up, they were getting louder and higher, until the familiar sound that everyone had hoped to never hear was drowning out everything else. The sirens were getting louder, but in the pauses between its pulses, I could hear that the noise of the town outside was getting quieter. After a few minutes, the commotion outside was gone as everyone evacuated. We were left alone - probably the only people in the entire district. Alone. Stranded. With something dangerous roaming beneath our windows. I can hear howl and scream in the distance - its voice sounds almost human. But I now know the difference - you could tell it clearly when its howl was followed by a human scream. Now, you might think that there was panic among the tenants, but you would be wrong. A distinctive feature of Russian people is that they, more than anyone else in the world, don't give a fuck. I say this with absolute certainty. Once they learned that the police told them to stay put they just calmed down. I can sort of see their reasoning: "why panic when you're protected by the walls? Can't you stay at home for a few days? The police told us that it's dangerous outside, so why would you go there? I've lived through the nineties, you wet-eared mutt, you think this is going to scare me?" So while everyone was displeased, they decided to stay put. And well, if they don't want to go then I don't have much choice either. I'd rather stay in our fort with the majority of people, even if they aren't the most pleasant company, then risk going out. Besides, it's not like there's any immediate threat to my life. Right? Category:Fanfic Category:Creepypasta